Home
by allhypedup
Summary: Published author Daphne Sinclair always found herself in the library. It gave her comfort. She never thought she would find that same feeling in a F.B.I. Agent.
1. Hopefully

_**Hopefully**_

It was her fortress. The wall of books covered her notes, and if she bent low enough, her face would be hidden as well. Daphne lost count of how many books there were around her, but they all had the same general topic. She wanted to learn everything she could about the F.B.I.

Her notebook was filled with cramped writing that translated into notes on whatever she could find. The book in front of her claimed to reveal the secrets of the F.B.I., but she took each word carefully. As much as she would love to know, she doubted the secrets were all laid out for her. Still, she wrote her notes.

It was her favorite part of writing a book. The research, the questions. Finding out things that you wouldn't typically come across in day to day life. She prided herself in knowing more about Ancient Greece, motorcycles, and the history of currency than most people. Even when she wasn't writing she found herself researching and learning everything she could about whatever she could get her hands on. When she was in high school and realized her love of research could mix with her creative mind, well it just all fell into place after that.

Daphne finished the last sentence of her idea and she dropped the pen. Her eyes were blurring, and her hand was killing her. She shook her hand trying to stretch the sore muscles. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers rubbing her eyes and a yawn slipping out. The face of her watch told her she had been there for almost three hours. A grin came to her face. She felt satisfaction in her hard work. She was another step closer to finishing her story.

She closed the book in front of her and started organizing the books into piles. Ones to check out today, ones she had finished, and ones that she needed to come back for. When it came to her writing, she was crazy specific. Her notes were in a certain order and everything had its place. The rest of her life was a different story.

After jotting down the titles of the books she wanted to return for, she piled all the books in her arms. She had to move carefully, worried that they would fall to the ground if she moved her fingers in the wrong way.

Slowly, she moved to the section she retrieved them from. She stopped in front of the bookshelf and stared at the books. Her mind forgot her original task and started memorizing books she didn't notice before. Forgetting that she was holding something, she reached forward for a new book and dropped everything.

She froze, her eyes shut tightly. "Damn." Her voice was quiet. Daphne bent down picking up the books and putting them into their piles again.

A thin hand reached forward and placed a book from behind her on top of the second pile. Daphne read the title and shook her head. She moved it to the first pile.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you had a system." Daphne smiled at the stranger. He handed her two more books, and she thanked him and put them in their piles.

"No worries. I'm a little, uh, organized." Daphne picked up the third pile and stood.

"Do you need help?" The man picked up another pile of her books. Daphne fully turned to him, a shy smile on her face.

"Just the cleaning up stages is all. That pile you have just needs to be put back. But I can do it."

Daphne turned her attention to the books in her arms. She placed some of them back, while she put others back on the ground to take with her.

The man seemed to ignore what she said and started helping her put everything back. He looked down at the titles, raising an eyebrow as he did so. " _Killers of the Flower Moon, A Higher Loyalty, The Secrets of the F.B.I_.…"

"Yeah, um, I'm writing a book about the F.B.I. Well, it's not about the F.B.I. exactly, it's fictional, and the main character falls into the F.B.I. world, and she doesn't know what's going on so I'm trying to learn as much as I can. I know it seems weird that they are all about the F.B.I. and that it might seem like -" She laughed nervously and shook her head. "Sorry, rambling. Yeah, book." The man gave her a small laugh.

"Which department are you looking at?" He kept his eyes on the books, carefully putting them onto their correct spot on the shelves. He did so very slowly and carefully, almost as though he didn't want to harm the books. Daphne blinked and turned away, hoping he didn't realize she was staring.

"Well, all of them. I'm not sure where things are going in the book yet, so I am just learning as much as I can until the book tells me where I am going. Oh, that sounds crazy. I'm not crazy. The books don't talk to me or anything."

"You're not crazy." He wasn't laughing at her. For once, someone wasn't laughing at her. She suddenly felt the urge to hug him. "You're a writer," he continued, "and a passionate one it seems."

"I get to do what I love. It's hard to not show excitement for it." Daphne bent down to pick up the last pile of books, and she smiled at the man. "Thanks for helping me. Hopefully, I'll see you around."

"Yeah, hopefully."

It wasn't until Daphne got into her car that she realized that she never got his name.

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think! xx**


	2. Three

**Here is the official first chapter! Again, sorry the first section posted wasn't that long. I am the worst with introduction to stories and it's something I'm working on lol. Anyway! I haven't fully caught up on the show, so if I post something that doesn't fall in with the characters please let me know! Also, obviously some of the show's plots will be changed and some I'm not going to to add into the story at all. This takes place somewhere around the beginning of season three.**

 **Thank you for the love already! I wasn't expecting to post this chapter so soon, but I'm loving writing this so I couldn't help it. I hope you enjoy! xx**

* * *

 ** _Three_**

Daphne had a thing for the number three. She was taught at a young age that it was a powerful number. _Bad things come in threes_ , her mother would remind her. It was used as a warning, but Daphne's young mind didn't understand it. In her mind, it didn't make sense. How could a word that apparently held such power, be linked to something horrible?

Since she could remember, Daphne preferred to do things in threes. The only things that occupied space in her bag were three notebooks, three pens, and three one-dollar bills. It was a strange habit, and one she hardly mentioned to anyone.

Even her stories were written in three parts. Well, that was her goal. Her new story was still in its planning stages and the unknown was starting to stress her out. Usually, her planning was structured and sometimes overly detailed.

This time she couldn't make up her mind. Maybe trying to write about the F.B.I. wasn't the smartest idea she had. Each book she read either gave her a new idea or made her completely scrap what she was working on. Her phone was buzzing non-stop from her agent calling her, trying to get some type of synopsis from her. There was only so long that Daphne could ignore her.

Daphne sat at her usual table at the library. This time, only a few books sat before her. Her green notebook was open, her fingers flipping slowly through the pages. There had to be something, some idea that jumped out at her. Her own handwriting was starting to look foreign to her and with a low groan she dropped her head to the table.

"Um…" Daphne lifted her head, strands of her hair falling out of her ponytail and in front of her eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, the exhaustion clouding her for a moment. Once she recognized the man she snapped her mouth shut and felt her face turn bright red.

"Uh, hi." _Well, that was lame._

"Hi," he gave her a shy smile and she felt herself wanting to sink into the chair. "Do you mind if I sit here?" He pointed to the chair from across from her.

"N-no, go ahead." Daphne pushed the books to the side, allowing him room to work. The two sat in silence, Daphne still holding on to her earlier embarrassment. She grabbed at the first book in reach and she flipped through it, her eyes not focusing on the words. She was too aware of the man sitting across from her.

The still nameless man was looking through his own books, his fingers moving down the page quickly. She watched him as he moved over each of the pages until he finished the book. He closed it, looked at it a moment, then picked up another book.

She watched this happen once more before she put down her own book. "How are you doing that?" She spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry?" His hand froze on the page, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"You read fast." Her eyes were wide. She was in complete awe of the talent. The man gave her that shy smile again.

"I can read 20,000 words per minute."

"Holy shi-." She cleared her throat and shook her head. She was staring. His cheeks were slightly tinted pink but it didn't seem like it bothered him. "Sorry. That's just amazing. Being able to do that would help me so much." She looked pitifully at the books.

"It does come in handy. Is your research not going well?"

"It's not the research, it's the story." She sighed. "I had one idea but the more I look into things the more plot holes I'm finding and it's starting to get to be too much. I'm going to have to figure something out soon but I don't know what I am going to do. I just need…" She rubbed her hand over her face. She had no idea what she needed.

"An F.B.I. agent?"

"In my dreams. First I need to figure out what department I want to focus on. I have small outlines for each one but it's hard deciding." She flipped to the front of her notebook, three departments written over and over that the pages were torn in some places. The man looked down and his eyes focused on the second one.

"The B.A.U.?" Without thinking, Daphne traced her pen over the three letters.

"I'm not sure if I'm sold on that one yet. That's mostly personal fascination. Being able to put yourself in these horrible situations and figure out the way someone is thinking to save lives… it's incredible." She spoke to the page, her pen still moving over the letters.

She looked up when he stayed silent. He was watching her hand and the look on his face was blank. She dropped her pen and cleared her throat. He lifted his eyes to her, that smile appearing again. She was beginning to like that smile.

"Actually, that's where I work."

"Wait, really?" She looked at him, trying to figure out if he was lying. It was no use, she could never tell if someone was lying or not.

"Yeah, I -"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," The pair looked up at Joy, the librarian, bending close to Daphne. "There's someone here to see you." She looked towards the front door and groaned.

"My agent. I guess I can't hide from her forever. Thanks, Joy." Joy smiled and walked back to the front desk. Daphne started piling the books but a hand stopped her.

"No, I'll take care of it." Daphne smiled at the man. His hand was resting on the book and his fingers were just slightly over top of hers. She felt nervous again. Daphne slowly pulled her hand away and stood.

"That's sweet of you, thank you." He stood as she did, his mouth opening. "Wait, don't introduce yourself to me yet."

"Um…." He slowly dropped his hand, obviously confused.

She didn't mean for the words to slip out. Hell, she didn't realize she was thinking about it. She gave him a small smile. "Wait until the next time we see each other. It'll be the third time so it'll be lucky." With a small wave, she gathered her things and met Sandra at the front.

"You have been avoiding my calls. Did you really think I wouldn't come see you?" Sandra stood with her arms crossed. "But more importantly, who is _that_? He's cute."

* * *

 _"It'll be the third time so it'll be lucky."_

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the paper in front of him but the focus wasn't there. He was the first one in the briefing room, and the silence was letting his mind wander.

From the first time that he met her, he couldn't get her out of his head. He hadn't needed to return back to the library, but he wanted to see if he could run into her again. He had it decided, if she wasn't there then he wasn't going to worry about it. Yet when he walked in, she was sitting right there.

He wandered the aisles of the library, finding books that he's read over a thousand times. He just needed something to do as his mind moved at an uncomfortably rapid pace. He didn't want to admit it, but he wished Morgan was there to help him.

Voices behind him snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned around. J.J. and Penelope entered the room, their attention turned to him as they came in.

"You alright, Spence?" J.J. sat across from him, her elbows resting on the table.

"Uh yeah. Fine just lost in thought I guess."

"Thinking about a girl?" Penelope sang to him, clearly joking. The pink tinge to his cheeks proved she was right.

"Oh my God, tell me everything." Penelope sat next to him, her hands resting on his arm.

"There's nothing to tell, I don't even know her name. But she has this thing with the number three and -"

"Stop right there." J.J. held up her hand. "Don't profile her. If you like her, or at the very least are interested, don't do that."

Spencer sighed, knowing she was right. "I know, just sometimes it's kind of hard to turn it off."

Penelope opened her mouth to make a dirty comment when the rest of the team sat at the table. J.J. stood and pulled out the file on their new case.

"Four teen girls went missing in Alexandria, Louisiana…"

Spencer felt a frown tug at his lips, it seemed that the third meeting would have to wait.


	3. Ruined

**Here is a new chapter! I think this is the fastest I've ever updated any story lol Thank you all for the follows I very much appreciate it! So I might have an idea or two for this story that would involve the B.A.U. doing what they do best ;) but I'm still not sure how I want to do it yet. I know it's been a slow start, but things are going to be picking up soon.**

 **Also, I very much like reviews that mention what you would like to see. This is your story just as much as mine 3**

 **Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

 ** _Ruined_**

The first day he wasn't there, she shrugged it off. Maybe he was busy. People had lives, jobs, relationships. Not everyone spent what felt like every waking moment in a library. Then the second day came and he wasn't there. Her mind started overthinking. It was the worst thing that she could do, but she never knew how to stop it. By the end of the week she had come to a conclusion. An outrageous one, she knew that, yet it was the only one that stuck into her mind.

She had scared him off. Her rambling, the odd expressions on her face, her weird fascination with his job…. It freaked him out. Her mind spun out of control, every word she said replaying in her mind. She felt stupid.

Daphne was never good at keeping relationships with people. Often, she found herself hidden in her stories, and she hadn't noticed that she unintentionally pushed everyone away. Soon, most of the people in her life only checked in every few weeks or so. She felt terrible, but never knew how to fix it. In response, she pushed herself deeper into her hole and soon just accepted it.

So when the opportunity came where she felt as though she could start over with a new face, her mind liked to make it difficult for her.

Her book served as an excellent distraction. Her plot finally had a basic shape to it and her outline was coming along much better than she had hoped for. Soon, after trying very hard, all thoughts of the potential new friend were pushed from her mind.

She hadn't been back to the library, now in fear of seeing him back there. Daphne had needed a change in scenery, anyway. It had always been the cure for whatever form of writer's block she would get. She had a circulation of places, spots she could go to that helped get the motivation going.

So she found herself in the back corner of the small coffee shop around the corner from her apartment. She liked the cliché aspect, _a_ _writer in a coffee shop_. The mindset got her into the writing mood and she felt her fingers almost fly over the keyboard of her laptop. On her right, her green notebook sat open, her scrunched handwriting even more difficult to read in the dim light. Her full mug of coffee sat forgotten behind the notebook.

Her typing turned slow, not wanting to miss any word that she had scribbled down. Her red notebook sat to her left, a list of questions she still had about her plot that seemed to be growing and growing.

Since the café opened, she had been working on her outline. Right at five in the morning when the shop opened, she stood outside with her laptop bag, a big smile on her face when the owner opened the front door. He didn't give her a second glance, used to having at least one person waiting for him.

A quick glance to the clock snapped her out of her trance. She had been working nonstop for two hours. Daphne stretched her arms. Her shoulders and wrists cracking at the movement, and she pushed her arms into the air and brought her hands down. She gave them a small swing to the right, hoping to bring some sort of comfort to her sore shoulders.

Only, she didn't judge the distance correctly and her hand knocked the mug. Brown coffee spilled on the pages of her notes and she jumped up.

" _No_!" Daphne didn't care that people were staring at her. Or rather, she didn't even notice. She lifted the notebook, trying to dry the pages as quickly as she could. "No, no, no, no, oh _shit._ " Her voice was quiet, but the panic was very much there.

The coffee mug was put on the farthest end of the table as if in punishment for destroying all her hard work. She tried, quite oddly, to dry the pages by flapping them out in front of her.

She cleaned up as much as she could, fear filling her. Carefully, she turned each page, watching as the ink faded into the stain left behind by the coffee. Ten pages of notes. Ten pages ruined. Her head fell into her hands. A deep breath left her and she pushed back the tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes.

Daphne gathered her things, leaving the green notebook out and open. Her head was down, eyes locked on the pages as she left the café and started towards her apartment complex. She kept the notebook open, her fingers carefully turning the pages, hoping for them to dry quickly.

Her fingers moved too fast and the damp pages ripped. Daphne didn't realize she let out a small scream of frustration until she felt the eyes of those around her staring. She was too annoyed to be embarrassed at that moment.

"Hey, um …. Are, are you alright?"

"No. Not at all." She turned to face the voice, but her eyes were still cast down. She lifted her eyes and the embarrassment finally hit her. "You." The man gave her a small nod. The look of concern was still on his face.

Daphne took a deep breath and reluctantly closed her notebook. She was afraid that any more movement would ruin the pages even more. "Um, sorry. I'm not … I just …" A writer at a loss of words, how original. "Sorry, bad day." She held up her notebook, her lips turning down.

"Well, anything I can do to help?" She could tell that the gesture wasn't just a polite question. She felt horrible for the attitude she had a moment before.

"Tell me everything you know about the F.B.I.?" She laughed slightly, before shaking her head. A joke, clearly, but she wouldn't admit that a small part of her wanted to ask him anything and everything about the job he had mentioned before.

"I can try."

"N-no, sorry I was only kidding. I ruined my notes on, well basically, everything. I have some of it transferred onto my laptop but I can't read most of it now and my stupid ass just ripped some of the pages so the little that I could read is probably just as destroyed and," she let out a deep breath, "I don't know."

"I was just about to get coffee. Do you want to join?" He spoke quietly and quickly, gesturing to the café behind him. Her small freak out echoed in her mind and she felt her ears turn pink.

"Uh, after what just happened, I don't think that I can ever go back there again."

"Well I can -"

"No, it's okay. Really, I promise. I just need to go back to the library and see what I can come up with. It's sweet of you to want and help me." Daphne put away her notebook, all hope of trying to save it gone from her mind. She would just have to buy a new one and start over. At least she had an idea of what she needed to know now. Silver linings, right? "I don't want to intrude on your day."

He nodded. "Well, I'll see you around." He moved by her and she felt her stomach drop. What was she doing? She had been looking forward to seeing him again, and when she got the opportunity, she pushed it away? Damn Sandra was right, she really needed to work on making friends.

"W-wait," she touched his arm, a shy smile appearing on her face as he turned around. "It's the third time. My name is Daphne Sinclair."

He turned around, smiling back. It was a wider smile than before and Daphne felt better. "Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Doctor? How fancy. Medicine?"

"Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering."

"Wow, three?" A wide smile pulled at her lips. "You're so young. Sorry, you probably hear that a lot."

"I do." His smile eased her.

"Um, I'll let you go on with your day. I gotta," she pointed behind her with her thumb, "yeah."

"Before you go," he pulled a card from his bag that hung over his shoulder. "If you have any research questions you can't find in a book -" Daphne took his card.

"Thank you, Dr. Reid. Really."

"Spencer."

"Uh-uh. You worked hard for that title. You deserve to be called by it." With a wave, she turned and left. Her feet moved quickly, her mind running over every little thing ready to over-analyze at any moment.


	4. Questions

**Another chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews, I love hearing what you think about this story! So this chapter is a little short, but I didn't want to add unnecessary things and make it boring to read. Like I said, things will be picking up and I might make the chapters longer to include the fun stuff!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 ** _Questions_**

He thought her ramblings were endearing, though he could tell she was embarrassed by them. They were much more emotionally charged than his own factual rants. He found himself not wanting to speak in fear of interrupting her thought process. Her voice was filled with emotion - never staying the same tone as she spoke. He was fascinated by the way her voice went up high and down low in spots that almost didn't make sense but somehow, she made it work.

Daphne Sinclair. She didn't mention if she had published any stories, but he risked looking. Not at the library, of course. If she was there and caught him, he wasn't sure what he would even say. Instead he went to the small bookstore that he often visited. His eyes searching over each book, worried he might miss her name.

Eventually, hidden in the back of the store under the _Local Author's_ section, he found something. Two books, one copy of each. He pulled the first one from the shelf. It was a simple book, one hundred and twelve pages long, a white cover with a small golden title in the middle: _Melpomene_.

The ancient Greek Muse of tragedy. Mother of the Sirens. Almost on autopilot he found himself whispering, _"Melpomene, from the chanting by which she charms the souls of her listeners."_ Then, J.J.'s words echoed into his mind – _'don't profile her'_. He pushed his thoughts down, trying not to analyze her reasoning behind the name.

His fingers flipped through the pages, and almost instantly he was finished. It was a book of poetry, each page holding a new poem no more than five lines each. He didn't understand some of them.

The second book was longer. Over two hundred pages. Again, a simple cover, this time a light blue. One word sat in the middle of the page, the same size and font as the first. _Dove._

He scanned his eyes over the back. The blurb didn't give away much, just that the story was about a girl coming to terms with the death of her father. Right underneath of the blurb, a small section with a black border told him about her. Born and raised in New Jersey, graduated from Rowan University with a degree in Creative Writing and moved to Virginia two years ago. To the left, there was a picture of her. Her hair was much shorter than it was now, stopping just at her chin. She was laughing in the picture, her face slightly facing away from the camera.

A small smile appeared on his lips and left the book store with the plastic bag swinging happily in his hand.

* * *

Daphne always hated Sandra's office. It was too…perfect. Everything had its place and it looked as though she had used a ruler in between the decorations on the wall. Nothing personal hung on the walls, no pictures of her family on her desk. Nothing. It made her uncomfortable. Daphne's home looked nothing like this. Papers and books everywhere, pictures covered the walls to the point where sometimes she forgot what color they were. There was no real organization to anything. She felt ease among some sort of disorder. It made things feel normal.

Her foot tapped against the hardwood floor, her fingers picking at the bare nails of her left hand. Loud talking was coming from behind her office door. Daphne didn't want to eavesdrop, but it was hard to ignore the man's voice as he screamed. The screaming was making her nervous. She hated loud noises, screaming.

From what she could hear, he was turned down by publishers. He didn't understand why. His story had to be shared. It was important. He used that sentence over and over. _It was important._ Daphne understood his anger. Having your writing turned down wasn't an easy feeling. When Daphne was turned down the first time, her reaction was to immediately burst into tears.

Sandra's office door swung open and with a string of curses the man stormed out. He glared at Daphne and stopped. He looked young, young enough where he had plenty of time to find someone to publish his story. He looked as though he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. Daphne was still as he flung the door open and left. From Daphne's chair, she could see Sandra sitting with her head in her hands. Daphne stood and gently knocked on the door. Sandra looked up, a tired smile on her face.

"I'm sorry about that Daphne." She stood, walking over to the door. Daphne gave the older woman a hug, her hands staying on her shoulders.

"Don't be. Are you alright? He was quite… colorful." Sandra shrugged. Daphne removed her hands and sat in the blue chair at the desk. Sandra took her place behind her desk and the smile turned genuine.

"Nothing I can't handle. So, how is this book coming along?" Daphne handed over the first three chapters of the book. Sandra skimmed over the words and Daphne's mind drifted to Dr. Reid and his own speed reading. On her desk in her apartment sat a list of questions and his card. She almost called him a few times, her shaking fingers hitting the _END_ button before she finished typing the numbers. She was embarrassed to admit that she had done it so many times she had the number memorized.

"This is great. Very exciting. I didn't think of you as a thriller writer, but I like it." Daphne wasn't a thriller writer at all. That wasn't what the book was truly about. She bit her lip, not wanting to argue with her agent. Instead, she thanked her gratefully. "Deadline for first draft will be beginning of April. Is that alright?"

"April. You got it."

"Then go on, get to work!"

* * *

Daphne did just that. Once she arrived home, her notes were propped up next to her and her fingers moved fast over the keyboard. The words fell from her fingers almost too easy, but she couldn't think about that. First drafts weren't the time for second guessing. Get the words on paper. Just get them down. It was her mantra. One she repeated as she wrote, convincing herself not to stop at any point. She can worry about any problems later.

The oven behind her beeped, scaring her. She had completely forgotten that she had made herself food. A small frown appeared as her concentration was broken. However, her growling stomach thanked her.

She sat at the dining room table, her list of questions in front of her. She had just crossed off two that she didn't need and added three more. Her fork tapped against her cheek as she looked at the list, fifteen questions in total.

She could just as easily find the answers in books. Which books, that she had no idea. She could look online, but she never trusted the facts on the internet. When it came to a topic she had no clue about, looking online was never easy. There were too many conflicting statements for her to figure out what was real.

Then there was the option of heading straight to the source itself. She hummed, the business card discarded among her books. Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. How would she even start the conversation? What if he was only being nice?

Daphne pushed out a breath and picked up her phone. Quickly, she typed in the number before she lost her nerve. Again.

" _Hello_?"

"Dr. Reid, uh, hi. It's Daphne. From the other day. I - " She cut herself off. The words were bubbling at her lips and she pushed them back. Instead, she took a deep breath.

" _Of course. How can I help you?_ "

"Are you busy? I have a few questions here and I would love your help. Can we meet up somewhere? Or another time if you can't right now. It's no pressure really."

" _Yeah, I can meet up in about an hour?_ "

"Perfect. Can we meet at the library?"

" _I'll see you there._ "

* * *

 ***The quote Spencer says about the muse comes from _The Library of History_ by Diodorus Siculus – I pulled it from theoi .com. (If you are into Greek Mythology I very much suggest checking out this website!)**


	5. Friends

**Hey again! I'm doing Camp NaNo this year so most of my attention has been on that. This month might be slower with updates, but I will try to get them out as soon as I can! Also, in response to a review I changed the way I titled the chapters on here. When you go into the drop down, the beginning number is automatically added, so it tends to look a little weird. (Something that I didn't really pay attention to, honestly.) I changed to just have the chapter title on there instead of adding which chapter number it was. Hopefully this makes things less confusing but let me know if there is any other way I should change it!**

 **Thanks for the reviews and for the follows. I so appreciate it! Enjoy :)**

* * *

 ** _Friends_**

 ** _This is bullshit._**

It was the second text message from the unknown number. Daphne deleted it, her eyes rolling. The first one was just as random. She knew exactly who it was, but why he felt the need to use a blocked phone number was beyond her. How dramatic.

Then again, he was always dramatic. Always trying to make things harder than they had to be. He always had to –

"No." She spoke the word out loud, her voice for the first time in a while clear and stern. "We are not going there."

Daphne looked around the inside of the library, trying to focus on what was around her. Pushing all memories to the back of her mind, she pushed her feet flat against the ground. _That is what is real. Focus on that._

Her fingers were tapping nervously on her lap. Her focus wasn't working. Every trick she had learned to slow her mind vanished. Her eyes fell on the list of questions in front of her. She ran her pen over every third number, the numbers getting larger and darker as she waited. It soothed her, reminded her that it was going to be okay.

The main doors gave a small beep and she refused to lift her eyes. The last few times she did, she was disappointed by each stranger's face.

Her pen moved faster over the page. Her focus was too much onto the paper, she didn't realize someone had sat across from her. She jumped slightly when her new tablemate coughed. Dr. Reid smiled at her and she sat up straight.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't realize you were here." She pushed her notebook out of the way, her hands folding nervously in front of her.

"Don't be sorry, I kind of snuck up on you." Daphne stayed quiet a moment, her mind moving too quickly for her mouth to catch up. She looked down at the questions, suddenly forgetting everything she wanted to ask him.

"So, what is your book about?"

* * *

She could listen to him forever. He knew _everything._ Daphne's chin sat on her hands and she stayed quiet. He had been talking for a few minutes about the start of the B.A.U. and the methods they used that no longer are in practice. He spoke quickly, his voice filled with a kind of excitement about the topic. It completely captivated her. How could one person know so much?

He finished his thought and Daphne stayed quiet a moment. He looked at her slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry that was probably more than you wanted to know."

"No!" She spoke the word quickly. "I-I mean it's just all, wow. I think I have more questions now than I had planned. But in a good way." She gave him a small laugh and he visibly relaxed. They had only gotten through three of the questions so far. A quick look at her watch showed that they had been there for two hours. Daphne tried to hide her disappointment – the library was closing in a half hour.

"I'm here to help whenever." She looked back up, the grin appearing full on her face again.

"Don't say that because then I won't leave you alone." Daphne pointed a finger at him teasingly.

"I'd like that." He said the statement simply, and Daphne stopped, not knowing how to respond. Was he flirting? Did people flirt with her? Was she completely reading into something that wasn't happening? Probably.

Spencer looked at his watch and must have realized the same thing she did. Slowly, Daphne gathered her things, with him doing the same.

Once outside of the library, they fell into another silence again. Daphne wrung her hands around the strap of her bag, her mind coming up with so many things she wanted to say, but none of them came out of her mouth. Across the street, the bright neon sign claiming the small diner was open shut off. She smiled sadly.

"The one thing I really miss about living in New Jersey is the twenty-four hour diners." Daphne ran a hand through her hair, the gesture pulling her hair out of the ponytail she forgot she had. She took out the hair tie and shook out her hair, her scalp thanking her for the relief. It wasn't often she had her hair down. She felt it was too in the way. Yet, she refused to cut it. She had her hair short once before, and she swore never again.

"Why did you move?"

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. She hated this question. "Change in scenery?" Even she wasn't convinced by that answer.

Spencer help up his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's okay really. It's just weird for me. It's not like anything bad happened I'm just not good at the whole 'backstory' thing. It's not like I have a bad story or anything, it's really quite boring but I just - " She took a breath. "Sorry, rambling again."

"Don't be sorry for that. Really." Daphne smiled wide. He didn't make her feel weird. Every time she would start her rambling or let her voice wander as she spoke, others would look bored. Or annoyed. She came to know the faces. The ones where someone didn't want to be rude, but obviously didn't care about what she was saying. She hadn't seen that look on Spencer's face once.

Another silence and Daphne felt her shoulders drop. "Thank you for letting me pick your brain. You don't know how much it will help me."

"Of course. Anytime I can help. We still have more questions, don't we?"

"Twelve more. Well, maybe nine. I think I can scratch out some of them now."

"I'll answer whatever you have for me."

"You don't feel like I'm interviewing you or anything, right? I feel like it's probably like that a bit."

"Not really. Would it make you feel better if I asked you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why write about the F.B.I.?" Daphne shrugged her shoulders. She sat down on the bench by the main doors, Spencer taking the spot next to her.

"I just needed something more… exciting. My last book was too dull. It might have been why it didn't do so well." Spencer didn't think it was dull at all, but he kept his mouth closed. "It was some horrible coming of age book about a girl whose father died and she had to go on with her life without the one person who was there for her. No excitement, no love story. Writing it was amazing, but I guess other people don't want something touching and emotional. They want something with some meat on it. I've been fascinated by the F.B.I. since I could remember and I decided to give it a try. Which is why I am so happy I met you because I would have been completely lost." Daphne put her hand on Spencer's knee, a wide smile on her face.

"I'm happy I met you too." He spoke quietly, but Daphne still felt a pull inside of her.

For the longest time, she thought she was fine not having friends. She had acquaintances, sure. However, none of them ever made her feel like she could reach out to them. She prayed that Spencer would be that person for her. He was genuine. Daphne would be so incredibly lucky to call him a friend.

She pulled her hand away, a slight pink tinge to her face. "Um, I - uh, thank you." She spoke awkwardly, then let out a groan. She put her face in her hands and shook her head. With a breath, she pushed her hair back and gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry, clearly I don't talk to people a lot."

Spencer laughed, but she knew it wasn't at her. "You're doing great. I'm not the best either." Daphne stood, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Well, you certainly know how to make a girl feel better." Spencer stood with her and they looked at each other for a moment. Daphne opened her mouth to say more, but she knew that she would never leave if she continued talking. As much as she wanted to stay, she felt horrible keeping him away from his life.

"I'll see you around, Doctor." With a small wave between the two, they each turned towards their homes.

* * *

Spencer was _not_ going to profile her.

He wasn't going to focus on her obsession with the number three, or how she had just a slight tan line around her finger that looked as though it was almost completely gone. He wasn't going to think about how she must be the youngest child or how she was much more insecure than she let on.

Instead, he focused on her novel. He had already finished it. Twice. This time, he read slowly. Trying to grasp anything he could find that could tell him more about this girl.

She was different. So different from anyone he had met before. She embraced herself, though he could tell she second guessed most of her actions. She would find herself being free of any form of paranoia, but then she would realize it and it would come clouding back onto her face.

He told her it was alright. Not in so many words, but by allowing himself to go on his own rants. Filling the silences with statistics and facts that didn't pertain to the question, but he knew would interest her anyway. The look that she gave him … he kept talking just to see it again.

A vain person would call that look admiration. Spencer, however, just took it to mean she really listened to what he had to say. He appreciated it. Not once did she interrupt him or tell him to focus. Her response was to ask him even more questions.

His thoughts were broken by his phone vibrating on the table. He sat up and looked at the message.

 ** _Thanks again, Doctor. I really appreciate your help x_**

 _Any time you need it, you have it. And please, Spencer._

 ** _I prefer Doctor. It makes me feel like I'm talking to a Time Lord._**

That settled it in his mind. She was wonderful.


	6. Goofy Grin

**Forever later, here is another chapter! So, I would like to completely apologize! I reread this story to make sure that I was following my idea, but oh my there were so many things wrong! I found so many mistakes and obvious errors that I panicked and rewrote everything. Well, not all of it. But I edited the chapters and rewrote a few things. Nothing that you need to go back and read if you don't want to, it's just something that I feel better about.**

 **Thank you so very much for your reviews and all the kind words. It really makes my day, so genuinely, thank you. Enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

 ** _Goofy Grin_**

Daphne woke to three text messages. One, from her sister. She deleted that one. The other was from a blocked number again, the same dull message expressing some form of dramatic anger. She deleted that one, too. The third one, was from Spencer.

Her heart gave a small leap. She must have fallen asleep, not realizing that he had responded to her text the night before. Her mind started its usual stroll down Panic Lane.

Should she reply? She didn't want him to think that she ignored him. But she still wanted to continue talk to him. Was it too late to reply? Should she start a new conversation?

"Shit, this is exhausting," she mumbled to herself. Throwing her phone down onto the bed, she figured getting ready for the day would help clear her mind.

The shower helped her aching shoulders and the coffee brought some life back into her. She felt better, but each time her eyes fell onto her phone, she frowned. No matter if she should have answered him or not, too much time had passed. It would be too strange for her to say anything now.

She turned her phone over, hiding the screen. She felt as though it was taunting her. She felt horrible. He probably thought she was ignoring him.

What made this whole thing worse was that she was too distracted to write. All she could think about was his stupid curly hair and his stupid grin. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. The last time she was so enamored with someone, she married them. Look how great that turned out.

Her deadline was still a good distance away, but she had spent most of the morning staring at her computer screen with nothing being done. A walk, that would help. Some time to clear her head and get herself back into the world that she had created.

Well, that was the plan. Instead her mind wandered to places she tried to forget. It was her fault. She had let her mind carelessly drift into memories of her former love. A small crack was all that was needed before the damn crashed and images flooded her mind.

She was happy. Truly, uncontrollably happy. Happy enough to believe that being married at such a young age was a good idea. She wouldn't change it. Daphne wasn't that kind of person. She liked to believe that it happened for a reason. Still, it wasn't her favorite topic to talk about. So she did what any normal person would do – she shoved it deep down and ignore it.

It seemed to work for the most part. The loneliness started to melt away. She became comfortable in it. However, that made making friends very difficult for her. It was never the easiest thing, but now that she had spent almost two years by herself it was much, much more difficult.

That had to be why Spencer made her so nervous. He had shown a genuine interest in her. It worried her. What if he got to know her more and he realized that she wasn't anything special?

"Stop it!" She hadn't realized that she had said it out loud. Standing on the sidewalk, she felt her breath get heavy as she tried to focus on what was around her. Sidewalk, buildings, trees, confused people. This is what was real. This is what was going on. Focus on that.

Her breathing became even and all she felt like doing was crying. She hated that her mind would constantly go into overdrive. Reminding her of all the reasons her marriage had ended. Reminding her why her relationship with her sister was almost nonexistent.

Her phone rang in her pocket and the noise made her jump. She was still shaking when she answered, not processing fully that the number was blocked.

"Hello?"

 _"What makes you so goddamn special?"_ She didn't recognize the voice. Her hand gripped the phone tightly and she tried to answer, but her voice disappeared. _"Huh? What the fuck makes you think that you are better than me?"_

"I don't…" She could barely whisper the words. Before she could say anything else, the man hung up the phone.

Her breathing quickened again. Her shaking fingers dialed before she could register what she was doing. He answered on the third ring and her shoulders relaxed.

"Can I see you?"

* * *

Daphne was sitting in the waiting room of the FBI. The writer side of her brain was looking at everything. How people were dressed, the language they used, how everything was set up. She wanted to take notes but wasn't sure how that was going to be received.

The other side of her brain sat in worry. Spencer had agreed that she could go see him, but mentioned that he wouldn't have a moment for a little bit. It was obvious that she was shaken over something, so he invited her to wait for him which she agreed to very quickly.

She tried to go through everything. Every interaction she had in the last few months that would lead to the phone call or the strange text messages that had to be from the same person. Nothing really came to mind. She hardly gave her phone number out to anyone. Maybe it was a wrong number? Some crazy person thinking that she was someone else.

Her foot tapped against the tile floor and she chewed lightly on her knuckles. It was a gross habit she did when she was scared, but it gave her mind something to focus on. She tried to think of only the tapping of her boot against the floor, _one-two-three, one-two-three._

By the time Spencer had come down to see her, she had calmed down slightly. Daphne jumped to her feet and stopped herself from latching her arms around him. Spencer put his hand on her shoulder, bending his taller frame down so he could line up his eyesight to her own. Daphne's heart skipped again.

"Are you okay?" Daphne nodded, but even she didn't believe it. "What happened?" He sat her down on the chairs again, sitting right next to her. Daphne explained the phone call and the text messages, repeating over and over that she wasn't sure where they came from or what it meant.

"Let me call Garcia. She might be able to help."

"N-no." Spencer looked at her confused. Of course, he did. She was worried and he was offering help. It was stupid that she was turning it down. She let out a breath before shaking her head. "Nothing's happened. If they call again, I can just ignore it. I honestly haven't done anything. This has to be some kind of mistake or something. The phone call just caught me at a bad time, that's all."

Spencer looked at her a moment. He didn't say anything and she brought her knuckle to her mouth again. Spencer reached forward and pulled her hand from her mouth. "What's going on?"

This was going to be the moment that she was terrified of. He was going to find out that she was too nuts for him to worry about. That she had too many issues and that he could spend his time better somewhere else. Spencer still held onto her hand as he waited for her to answer. He waited patiently, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Writer's block." What kind of answer was that? Spencer didn't seem to understand but didn't push her. Instead, he stood and pulled her with him.

"Want to see how the FBI works from the inside?" Daphne smiled, nodding. Spencer gave her that damn goofy grin that she couldn't get out of her head and she felt that all her problems were disappearing.

"Lead the way."


End file.
